


Americano

by bidness



Series: Flufftober 2020 [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee, Disaster!Alec, Excessive use of italics, First Dates, Fluff, Flufftober, Human AU, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pseudo-Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26801548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bidness/pseuds/bidness
Summary: God, what is he doing?This guy isn’t the only attractive person that’s walked into their coffee shop, he’s not the first person who’s sat with his chin propped in a hand and watched Alec through conversation with Maia. As long as Alec’s worked here he’s had a few men and women come in and leave a number, but… but something about this guy feels different.Alec works mornings in a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that borders more on selling therapy than coffee. One day, Maia gets a customer that takes Alec's breath away.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Maia Roberts, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Flufftober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948843
Comments: 48
Kudos: 105
Collections: Fluff vs. Angst Battle 2020





	1. Prompt 3: Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> This fic spawned from sheer indecisiveness on which flufftober prompt list I wanted to use, and I decided in the end I wanted to just incorporate a good amount of prompts from the list I decided on as chapters in this fic. It's just going to be the progression between these two in small chapters updated throughout October! Tags will be added and the rating will likely change eventually, because I know myself LOL! Each chapter title will be the prompt for that day.
> 
> Enjoy this fluffy, coffee shop meet-cute fic!!

_Ding Ding!_

The high chime of the bell above the door signals their first customer for the day at a peaky - _Alec squints at the clock_ \- 5:43am.

A muffled grunt behind Alec alerts him to Maia’s presence as she shuffles out of the small back room with a “got it.”

He’s always been thankful for Maia, thankful for the ease with which they work together and the seamless way they accommodate and cover each other's weaknesses. Alec doesn’t really… _do_ customer service. He can make a mean piping hot cup of coffee to wake the weary mind, but when it comes to early morning smiles, Alec just can’t quite manage more than an awkwardly bared hint of teeth that always comes off as more of a grimace. No, Alec’s skills are much more practical, and he likes it that way. He likes focusing on menial tasks and getting through his shifts with as little contact with people as possible.

It’s several minutes later when he’s plating the pre-cooked treats onto the display platter that he hears Maia’s laugh and excited chatter of someone telling her a story. For as long as he’s known her, Maia has always been good with people. There’s a genuine, charming way about her, endearing in the way she speaks, like you’re an old friend she hasn’t seen in a while even if you’ve just met. How she can look at you with her wide brown eyes that soak you in a warm bath of sincerity and calm all your worries, eyes that see through all the bullshit that life brings and has you spilling out all your woes over morning coffee to a kind smile and listening ears.

Maia has a skill Alec has never come close to mastering.

Not that he necessarily _wants_ to. It does rake in the great tips (which Maia graciously splits 60/40), but some days what Maia does borders heavily on a cheap variation of therapy. They’re baristas, if they decided that an average cup of joe included listening to a customer’s problems, the inflation on the coffees they sell would skyrocket.

When Alec finally nudges the door to the main room open with his shoulder and tray of baked goods firmly in his grip, he’s not surprised to see Maia hunched over the counter nodding her head with the hum of someone deep in thought. _She’s working her magic again,_ Alec thinks as he slips past her as quietly and unobtrusively as possible.

“So you told her to shove that...”

Firmly, he shakes his head, tuning his ears into the soft jazz that plays above them in familiar gentle melodies he hears every shift as Maia’s voice trails in the background. It’s repetitive and he hates that he always finds himself humming the tunes at odd times of the day unknowingly, but he likes jazz and honestly prefers it over the drivel that often accompanies Maia’s little sessions. He’d rather not know about Simon’s love debacles, or Mr. Morgenstern’s conspiracy theories, and though Alec didn’t see who Maia’s early bird is today, their no-doubt inane life story doesn’t distract Alec from the very important and imperative task of aligning the trays perfectly before the next customer arrives.

As if summoned, the bell above the door chimes again and Alec glances up to see one of his regulars stepping in. 

“Morning, Lydia,” Alec nods, and waits for the perfunctory smile he’s greeted with almost every day. 

“Good morning, Alec,” she responds, stepping up to the register where he’s already punching in her order that he knows she’s going to repeat to him anyways out of politeness, the one he knows by heart. 

When he first started, he was advised to memorize at least one regular’s order in a week's time, and Lydia, with her simple macchiato every morning promptly on the hour, was the one. As far as customers go, Lydia is exactly what Alec prefers to handle. She’s quiet, polite, and expects none of the frills customer service often forces. She comes in for coffee, mild conversation if they’re both in above average moods, and enjoys her macchiato in the quiet corner of the shop surrounded by her text books until she offers a gentle goodbye when she departs hours later. Alec appreciates her soft company endlessly.

After taking her money (exact change, as always) and exchanging a few words about the test he knows she’s studying for, Alec turns to start on her drink. 

There’s a mental checklist he goes through in the beginning moments of making his first drink of the day, tallying all the processes that happen before opening and tacking on mental reminders to not forget the muffins in the oven. It’s somewhere between his internal checklist and the steaming of milk that Alec realizes his quiet humming along to the jazz through the speakers up above is the only sound that fills the small shop, and he wonders if Maia’s customer has already left after only 15 minutes.

What he’s not expecting when he turns around with Lydia’s finished drink is to be met with two pairs of eyes watching him, and a sly grin on Maia’s lips.

“Uhhh,” he offers, ineloquent when his gaze falls onto the man leaning his elbows on the counter.

“Hello there,” he receives in response, a shy smile filling out bright in front of him.

Maybe it’s the backdrop of the sunlight that settles through the windows and casts a soft glow around him, or the way it reflects off of and draws attention to the flecks of glitter that encase deep brown eyes. But in that moment, Alec’s positive he’s never met anyone this handsome before. Especially not at 6am, and definitely not in this small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. 

“Hi.”

For longer than he’d like to admit, Alec gets lost.

The macchiato is warm against his fingers, but nothing compared to the heat that flares on his face, or spreads down his throat and through his stomach like he’s just swallowed a straight shot of espresso. He gets lost in the mirth that blooms in the gaze they share, lost in the bashful tilt of the man’s head as his smile widens with the flabbergasted stutter as Alec tries to form literally anything else. The halo of the sun that’s barely peeking through the glass illuminates the long strands that are tinged with red, and glints off of the silver ear cuff when he shifts under Alec’s stare.

“ _Alec_ ,” Maia’s words bring him back and he snaps his eyes over to her, where she glares pointedly in what he assumes to mean _‘get your shit together, Lightwood!’_

“Ah - um, macchiato,” he explains, lifting up the small cup he still has to plate and take to Lydia.

He sets on that mission, ignoring the burn of eyes that follow his movements, and the sympathetic smile Lydia grants him when he stumbles his way over to her table. 

When he walks back behind the counter, he makes a point of avoiding eye contact with Maia and the man as they fall back into a hushed conversation. The jazz overhead suddenly seems too loud, too grating on the fragile nerves and the sun is both too bright and not bright enough when compared to the beauty that sits at his counter. Part of him wants to go back up and introduce himself, to extend his hand and feel the contact of what he’s sure is a soft palm. He wants a name to match the face, a name to whisper back with a hope for… _something_.

God, what is he doing?

This guy isn’t the only attractive person that’s walked into their coffee shop, he’s not the first person who’s sat with his chin propped in a hand and watched Alec through conversation with Maia. As long as Alec’s worked here he’s had a few men and women come in and leave a number, but… but something about this guy feels different. 

There’s a twist in his stomach, a heavy tug of attraction that flutters his chest and frazzles his nerves with every pass behind Maia that leads to catching gazes. It takes everything in him to muster up enough coordination to not fuck up and drop something in front of them to further embarrass himself.

Several people enter the shop in the next 15 minutes that pass after Alec’s embarrassing non-introduction. It keeps him just busy enough that he doesn’t have time to stop and dwell on his mortification, but not too demanding that Maia needs to help. When there is a lull, just short seconds when he’s ducking down below the bar to grab milk, he finds his eyes scanning the counter to see where the man has moved with the steady stream of newcomers crowding his space. But the man isn’t nearby anymore, the quiet lilt of his voice just below the music suddenly missing and heavying his chest with regret. Did he miss his chance to introduce himself already?

He looks for Maia next, finding her only when she finally steps out from the back room carrying the tray of muffins Alec already forgot about. If Maia’s working again that must mean she’s done talking to the guy, and he’s probably long gone by now, any opportunity Alec had at conversation successfully departed. 

Fuck. 

_Oh well_ , he thinks to himself in a grumble as he snaps the small refrigerator shut and resumes his work. In all honesty he’s not sure that he would have been able to gather the courage to even say anything to the guy, let alone make anything happen. No use beating himself up about it now.

The rest of his shift passes slower than the first forty minutes did, a monotonous string of customers and vapid conversation that does nothing to distract him from the nagging disappointment he can’t seem to shake, hard as he tries. At 9am Jace walks in to flirt with Maia and bother him on his half, and though it’s not a new occurrence, today it dredges up annoyance in the pit of his stomach where his sandwich doesn’t sit well. It sucks seeing Jace with the confidence to shoot his shot, to aim for whatever he desires and not get dissuaded by the constant shut-downs and rejections he receives. It’s more friendly banter at this point than actual flirting, but it’s frustrating to watch nonetheless when Alec knows he couldn’t even handle stuttering out his name to a stranger. 

The last hour of his shift drags on in the worst sort of torturous drum, but Alec’s finally in a better mood than he was during lunch. Simon likes to brag that it’s his presence that brings the small chuckle out of him when he trips from the entrance of the shop, already late for his shift. But Alec’s only human, and Simon falling on his face with a wail is obviously going to provoke at least a smile. 

It’s only when the speaker crackles out the same tune from earlier that he feels his mood sink once more, however slight. It’s the same tune he remembers humming along to when he made Lydia’s drink this morning, the same one that played to the vision of smudged eyeliner, sunrise, and missed opportunity. 

Maia must see the crestfallen look and take pity, because only seconds later the toe of her boot knocks lightly into his shin as her way to catch his attention. “Hey,” she begins, motioning to the tip jar that’s crammed full of bills and odd change with her head. “How about you take the tips today?”

Sour mood or not, there’s no way Alec’s taking all of their hard-earned money. “Fifty-fifty?” he offers instead.

The silence in her pause makes him suspicious, but she shrugs and opens the display cabinet to snag a muffin before she clocks out. “Fine, but only because I had to endure Mr. Morgenstern’s creepy conspiracy about Freud and siblings in love. Start counting, I’m gonna make a drink.”

There isn’t an opportunity to be indignant about having to hand count all the tips alone, because Maia’s already scampering off to the espresso machine the second the words rush out of her mouth. Simon just shrugs at him and goes back to wiping the counter, and Alec allows himself the drama of a sigh as he takes the jar to one of the unoccupied tables against the wall. 

One by one, he counts each and every bill, getting up to $27 before his eyes catch on a small strip of napkin folded into a square. Were it not folded so meticulously, Alec would have already thrown it away. Curiously, he opens it.

It’s… a number?

It’s a number.

_Magnus._

A breath releases from the stronghold of his lungs, held unknowingly in the seconds as his eyes scan the digits inked into the flimsy paper. Magnus, his name is _Magnus_ , and he left his number. For Alec. 

Quickly, he glances over to where he had last seen Maia, meeting her shit-eating grin with wide eyes. He lifts a brow in a silent question that she nods to, and more questions arise - _when, why, me?_ \- but he doesn’t voice them aloud, choosing to save these instead for Magnus. And that, the thought of even talking to him, _god_ , all of it makes the warmth on Alec’s cheeks feel stifling, not from embarrassment, but from the prospect of the future.

It’s with a rushed motion that he digs his phone out of his back pocket and punches the number into his contacts, saving it before Simon catches wind of the situation and somehow finds a way to obliterate the napkin with his sheer bad luck.

The money that sits at the table in front of him holds him back from leaving, and he mentally calculates the money still left in the jar versus the bills he’s already counted, stashing the small stack into his pocket before slamming the jar back on the counter for Maia. 

“You can have whatever’s left!”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she hums.

He’s only a step away from leaving the shop when he turns to face Maia, beaming at the still abundant jar of money. “Thank you, Maia.”

She turns to him, her smile turning warm with friendly affection. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” Then, after a beat: “Also, I love Magnus, so if you hurt him I know where you work.”

His lips quirk and his chest feels full, the sun bright against his skin when he steps out of the coffee shop. There’s a pep in his step, and his fingers are buzzing with the excitement as he pulls out his phone again and brings up Magnus’ number.

**Hey, this is Alec.**

Today was… pretty great. 

Against his palm, Alec’s phone vibrates with a new text alert that flashes Magnus’ reply on the screen and proves that it’s only going to get better from here. 


	2. Prompt 5: Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus makes a surprise visit to the coffee shop on Saturday morning.

The coffee shop fills with the low murmur of chattering students on an otherwise uneventful Saturday morning, the effects of working near the local university being that the weekends become a stomping ground for the book worms and usual reclusive groups on campus. Thankfully, they’re more relaxed and down-to-earth than the students that frequent the more popular cafes, infinitely less draining for Alec in the afternoon when he finally hangs his apron and leaves, because these kids don’t require the same levels of fakery. Everyone hates life, and that’s really just a vibe Alec _gets_. It’s when he’s tamping down espresso into the portafilter that the door dings with the arrival of one more customer. 

“Good morning,” he calls out, devoid of anything other than the usual repetition as it always is. With a practiced movement, quick and precise, he snaps the portafilter into place and turns around to greet his customer. “What can I get--”

Alec’s voice catches in his throat when he meets soft brown eyes, glitter, and - _Magnus_.

“Good morning to you, too, Alexander.”

His jaw won’t work. Well, it works, but not the way he wants it to. He wants to speak, to breath out the words ‘ _Hey Magnus, you look great today’_ , but all he can manage is the meager hinge of open and shut that leaves him floundering where he stands on the other side of the counter. 

“ _Alexander?_ ” Maia purrs behind him in what he presumes to be an imitation of Magnus, just loud enough for only Alec to hear.

There’s a pinch against his side, light and inconspicuous, but enough to snap him out of his stupor. “M-Magnus, uh… Hey!” _You look great today. It’s really good seeing you. You wanna get out of here?_

Any number of things long to spill forth, but then Magnus smiles at him, and _fuck_ , how can one person be so gorgeous?

Last time he could blame it on the sunrise, dusky orange and blues strewn behind Magnus in an intimate glow. It was early morning, barely any light outside, easy to rationalize away as a fluke (not that he would dare to). But here, _now,_ in the vivid brightness of the already risen sun, he has to face the fact that someone like Magnus really does exist. Someone so perfectly carved and layered, someone who’s eyes literally sparkle with the reflection of the lights up above in a way Alec never expected to be a real thing. Maybe he’s putting too much on the vision of Magnus in front of him, shuffling his weight from leg to leg, lips pulled in amusement. Then again, maybe not.

“Is it alright if I order something?” 

Alec stares blankly, wondering if he’s supposed to understand the question, before he _understands the question_. “Oh, y-yeah! Of course,” he says, never sounding more enthusiastic to take a coffee order before in his life. “What can I get you?”

It feels weird to be helping Magnus’ after the heavy amount of exclusive texting the past few days, to be standing in front of him under such different circumstances than the last, with fingers balanced and ready in waiting to punch in whatever he chooses. 

Precious moments tick by as Magnus scans the bar menu, and Alec uses this time to drink in his features, eyes falling upon the high tousled strands of dark brown and red streaks, to the slight furrow of delicate eyebrows. The ear cuff is still there, twisted and reflective, and when Alec’s eyes drop down along the smooth skin of Magnus’ cheek and nose, to the plump pink of his lips, that’s when he notices Magnus is talking.

Alec coughs. “Sorry, uh, could you repeat that?”

A twinkle seems to spark in Magnus’ eye, the same one Alec never would have believed in if Magnus didn’t exist just to prove him wrong, and he spreads his palms flat across the counter where he leans just a few inches closer towards Alec. Low and sultry, he quips, “distracted, are we?”

With the way the organ in his chest starts to beat erratically, he must have contracted some sort of heart condition recently, something to explain away the weakening and sudden ineffectiveness at beating a steady, regular pace. That’s what he wants to believe at least, an assurance that he’s not just crazy and his body isn’t all out of wack over nothing. But he knows it only happens when Magnus is around, and his problem lies in inexperience and that single point alone.

It lies in the growing crush he’s begun to form, an attachment to Magnus and everything he encompasses, every word he speaks articulated and purposeful, all the grace with which he moves, even when he’s not trying. It lies in the flirty texts and suggestive comments late in the evening when Alec is lying in bed with a sappy smile on his face. Words that make his blood pulse through his veins a vicious drum beating out his impending doom, because he knows he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of the attention and affection of someone like Magnus. 

Magnus, who’s eyes crinkle slightly with understanding as he tilts his head adorably to the side and raises fine eyebrows. “Can I get a mocha, please?” He pauses, just for a moment where his bottom lip catches between his teeth that Alec has to forcibly not get distracted by. “Don’t judge me, but can I get it extra sweet?”

“Yeah,” Alec says, his voice lower and raspier than he expects. “Of course. Would you like anything else?”

He wants to shy away and hide under the counter with the way Magnus turns on him now, features twisting from innocent coffee ordering to something a little more indelicate, not because he doesn’t like it, but because he doesn’t trust himself around _that look_. But casts his eyes firmly on the screen in front of him and chooses to ignore the heat that rises to his cheeks as he punches the coffee order into the register instead.

When Magnus speaks again, Alec half expects him to pour out the same joke he’s heard before from people trying to get a rise out of him - ‘ _I don’t see you on the menu’_ \- but to Alec’s relief, he just finishes ordering. 

“Could you maybe add on a chocolate muffin, and whatever you like to drink?”

“Whatever I like to drink?” Alec sputters.

Magnus seems unperturbed, pulling out his wallet and sliding his card along the counter. “I wanna buy you a drink,” he adds, as if it’s nothing.

Which, maybe it’s really not, but it’s something to Alec, because nobody has ever tried to buy him coffee before.

Shaking his head, Alec finishes putting the order into the register and applying his discount to it before Magnus has a chance to protest. “Your drink will be up shortly, if you wanna have a seat. On me.”

There’s a challenging look in Magnus’ eyes when Alec finally meets them, but he doesn’t back down, swiping the card off the counter and holding it out instead. They stand like that for a few drawn out seconds, searching, silently discovering new dynamics that they’ll never expose through strictly text. Whatever Magnus finds on Alec’s face, he must finally accept, because a light brush ghosts across his hand where Magnus takes the card.

And god, Alec tries not to let it affect him. He tries not to dwell on Magnus’ fingers trailing unnecessarily over his own, extending far past what’s acceptable or normal for an act as simple as grabbing your card back. He doesn’t let thoughts linger on the way his skin tingles with electricity where they meet, or the fact that his brain is pushed further to incoherence when Magnus turns around with a wink and _‘I’ll be waiting’_. Alec tries not to stare after him too long, heart heavy and caught in his throat.

He must, though, because there’s an agitated cough from the spot previously occupied by Magnus, inhabited by an old guy tapping his fingers in annoyance on the counter, cash in-hand. 

“I got this one, lover boy,” Maia calls from beside him, bumping him out of the way with her hip and a grin. “Make those drinks and then take your break, I can handle the shop.”

Alec takes the opportunity immediately, tossing away his usual insistence that he doesn’t need a break, or that Maia needs his help even when it’s slow because he just doesn’t like to seem useless. A glance to the corner of the shop where Magnus sits watching his phone with a soft smile sets more than just his heart in motion, and he makes quick work of their drinks.

The espresso he’s already set on the machine suddenly doesn’t seem good enough for Magnus, so he reaches for another portafilter and grinds fresh espresso into it, distributing and tamping it with more care than he ever has before. The chocolate comes next, double for Magnus who probably would have been more satisfied with hot chocolate than a caffe mocha. It’s when he’s steaming the milk, pitcher in hand and espresso filtering into the small container beside him that Maia sidles up next to him.

“So if he’s visiting you on your break and you’re buying him coffee, I assume things are going well?” she asks, using the unused espresso Alec had left for the other customer, the one who clearly didn’t appreciate Magnus’ presence as much as Alec did.

“Honestly,” Alec begins, furrowing his brow when he thinks about the past few days. “I’m not sure. We really haven’t talked at all, besides text.”

It feels weird to be sharing information like this with Maia, something he doesn’t do with anyone, not even Izzy. Not weird in a bad way, more of a relieving sense of calm that he has someone to spill his worries and inexperience to, someone who won’t judge or step past any boundaries he may have unconsciously set. Someone who will listen and not meddle. Maia hums, her hands working quick and methodically, where Alec is still tapping the pitcher of steamed milk onto the counter, every beat of the metal against wood slamming a nail of insecurity into his oncoming overthinking. 

“But it looks like he likes you,” she offers, chancing a glance behind them to Magnus. When she looks back at his face, he assumes he looks as pathetic as he feels, because she nudges his shoulder lightly. “You just gotta take a chance and put yourself out there. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but at least you can say you tried. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this moony over anyone before. You don’t even comp your siblings, so Magnus must be a big deal.”

It pulls a small smile from him, and it’s moments like these that Alec realizes just how good Maia is at all of this, communicating with such limited information but somehow knowing exactly what to say. “Thanks. Really,” he adds, fixing her with a sincere gaze that she (surprisingly) shies away from. 

“Yeah, yeah, Lightwood. Don’t go getting all sappy on me now. We have a good thing going here, wouldn’t want you to ruin it by becoming _friendly_ now.”

His cheeks feel warm with affection for Maia and he’s sure his eyes are crinkling with how wide he’s smiling, but he turns back to the mocha at hand and finishes off Magnus’ drink with as fancy a tulip as he can manage with shaky hands. The prospect of drinking his coffee with Magnus is exciting, yet also incredibly terrifying because this could be what fucks it all up.

Alec through text is a whole different person. That Alec has ample amounts of time to think his replies through, time to judge the flow of conversation and gather his thoughts into a cohesive response.

But him, this Alec, here in the flesh… Well, he’s screwed. This Alec is a certified wreck, a stammering fool who’s trying way too hard to impress Magnus with his winged tulip art that any barista can do in their sleep, searching for the biggest chocolate muffin with the most chips because Magnus apparently loves sweets. 

Anxiously, Alec unties his apron and sets it on the back counter before carefully carrying the two drinks and muffin to Magnus’ table across the room. His presence is noticed almost as soon as he steps around the counter, and when Magnus glances up at him with a small gasp of excitement and a beaming grin that bares perfect teeth, Alec does his best not to smile back dopily and trip, drop the drinks, or something equally as embarrassing.

“Alexander, this looks wonderful!” Magnus says, sing-song and happy, making Alec’s pride swell in a foreign feeling. “Thank you so much.”

“No need to thank me, I had to do it,” Alec mumbles, before catching his words and quickly trying to back track. “I mean, I had to do it because I work here. Uh, I had to make the drinks. I didn’t make the muffin though, Maia did.”

_Shut up, shut up, shut up._

For a moment, Magnus seems stunned at the words, and Alec wonders if he’s going to just leave then and there. Not that he would blame him, because _fuck_ , that was awkward.

But then Magnus’ expression turns soft, and he motions to the seat across from him. “Well I’ll have to thank her later then. Sit with me?”

The motion is automatic when Alec does sit, and Magnus brings the cup closer to himself, admiring the design of the milk on the top. “I hope this wasn’t too weird for you, me barging in here out of nowhere.”

“Not at all,” Alec throws out immediately, before slowing down and reaching for his own drink. “It’s, uh… It’s nice. Seeing you again.”

“Just nice?” Magnus quirks, peering up at him through his lashes. And god, he looks like a fucking dream to Alec. 

The way his fingers encase the cup of mocha in a perfect picture, with nails painted black and the light blinking off of the silver rings that decorate him. To the cuffs of his simple red button down, and the necklaces dangling across his chest, then up higher to his adam’s apple, prominent and jutting and transfixing Alec with the way it moves when Magnus talks.

“Really nice, actually,” he says at last, quiet.

Magnus licks his lips, a movement that catches Alec’s attention, that he has to adamantly not hone in on, and brings the cup to his lips so he can take a sip. A moan follows almost immediately, a soft sound of contentment that draws out of Magnus and pierces straight into Alec, where he has to look away and take a sip of his own drink to distract himself. 

“What’s in your cup?”

Alec scrunches his nose a bit. “Americano.”

The way Magnus’ brows raise high into his forehead makes Alec want to laugh, and it almost scares him how easily his guard drops in front of the man, how loose he becomes with his inhibitions at just the thought of making Magnus smile. “So I asked for the sweetest drink on the menu and you decided to go the complete opposite end?”

At that, Alec does laugh, hidden behind the cup as he looks over at Magnus. “Not the complete opposite. I like bitter, but it’s too late in the day for a straight shot for me.”

“I like sweet things,” Magnus says softly, in a way that Alec knows he’s talking about something more than coffee. 

_I like you_.

The conversation settles in a soft lull of companionable silence while they watch each other. Alec could sit here forever, the warmth of the sun and Magnus’ endearing smile comforting him into a soft haze of existing. There’s a tickle against his hand where it rests around his cup on the table, heat that spreads slowly from a single point of contact where Magnus’ hand around his own cup settles against his. 

It thrums his heart with hope and giddiness, something small but significant happening before his eyes. Being here, sitting in front of Magnus and talking is so different than the texts that fill his phone throughout the day. Texts that hold simple conversation and not much more, because even though texting gives Alec the time to think and deliberate on his responses, he’s horribly aware of the way his messages tend to come off dry and aloof. 

But this… He can do _this_.

Magnus begins to talk again, making comments about the coffee shop, bringing up something he mentioned in text last night, idle chatter about his plans for the day and pausing politely for Alec to supply his own thoughts and opinions. Alec throws himself into it, finds himself listening to Magnus’ words with rapture as though every one holds a special meaning to him, that he can garner some sort of hidden affirmation from them all. 

Maybe it’s the fact that he didn’t add enough water to dilute his espresso that has his fingers itching to move, to reach out and feel more of the smooth skin of Magnus’ hand. Or maybe it’s the way the chocolate tastes that’s got him wired, achingly sweet on his tongue when Magnus insists he try some, or the way he laughs when Alec makes a face.

Whatever it is, he never gets the chance to figure out because in the creeping feel of eyes watching him, he notices the line that begins to form at the counter and the clock tells him his ten minute break has turned into twenty. Slowly, _dejectedly,_ he stands. 

“Sorry, I gotta go back now.”

Magnus stands with him, a knowing smile crossing his lips that Alec longs to bask in. “I’ll have to apologize to Maia for stealing you away.”

Before Alec really thinks, the words come out. “You can steal me away whenever you want.”

In what seems to become an almost constant reaction to Alec’s inability to be an appropriate human being, Magnus raises his brows. “Oh?”

“I mean,” Alec stammers, reaching for the empty cups of coffee. “Ah, y’know... Like… If you were in the neighborhood, uh, and you, um, wanted to get dinner or something?”

There’s silence, as silent as you can get in a crowded coffee shop, but Alec refuses to meet Magnus, fidgeting with the cups in hand. “Oh,” Magnus repeats quietly. 

How quickly Alec steels himself for rejection, how quickly the thoughts form that this was a stupid idea, that Magnus isn’t interested in more than friendship. But then there’s two fingers just under his chin, gentle and turning his face to finally look at Magnus who seems a mix of eager and amused. 

“I’d love that,” he whispers, and Alec notices how close he is now, inhales the deep scent of Magnus’ cologne in a mix of coffee beans and espresso. “Do I need to ask Maia’s permission to steal you away for dinner?”

“No.”

“Perfect.” Magnus’ eyes trail down his face, and here in such close proximity Alec can see each subtle reaction that Magnus has to him, the way he seems to pause at Alec’s lips. It’s just a second, a quick flutter of anticipation where Alec thinks Magnus might try to kiss him, before they’re both falling out of the reverie and back into the coffee shop. 

“I’ll text you,” Magnus offers, voice lower than it has been all morning, before he steps back towards the door with eyes still trained on Alec until he’s out of the shop. 

With Magnus gone, the air feels lighter, his lungs no longer have to strain with the heavy way it becomes hard to breathe around the other man. 

Maia whistles, snapping him back to attention so he can put the empty cups in the sink and get back to work. It’s easy to fall back into things, to tie on his apron and catch onto the drinks that are on order so they can get rid of the line of customers. He feels bad, guilty for leaving Maia alone longer than he should have, but the not-so-subtle provocative grin she keeps giving him makes him feel a fraction better. 

“You guys were practically eye-fucking each other the whole time,” she laughs when the storm of customers finally settles. 

“We absolutely were not,” Alec grumbles with red cheeks around the action of foaming milk.

“Um, hello? That’s exactly what that was and you can’t tell me otherwise.” Before Alec can contest, she continues. “So what’s next? Did you put it all out there? Did you confess your undying love and ask to move in together, even though you’ve only known each other, like, three days, because you’re soulmates?”

Her words produce an eye-roll, and a blank stare, but Maia cackles loudly.

“We’re going to dinner, actually.”

A gentle smack hits his arm. “I’m proud of you, Lightwood.” For dramatic effect, Maia lifts her arms in the air and shakes her fists with an exclamation. “He can be taught!”

Alec’s not sure if it’s Maia’s unusual antics, or the residual excitement from Magnus’ presence, but he falls into laughter with her, deep and full and therapeutic. If this is how Maia’s customers feel after talking to her, maybe he should quit and start coming in as a customer.

As much as he’d like to give Maia all the credit though, Magnus’ face fills his thoughts, gentle communications and soft smiles that set his heart alight. Warm sunlight, and delicate sweetness fills the growing palette of Magnus in his mind, and he wonders what else he’ll be able to add to it in the future. 


	3. Prompt 7: A First Time

Bright lights of the city buzz before Alec, neon and fluorescence that should be warm and inviting in the low-setting sun only come off harsh and foreboding. He stands outside the doors, the bustle of people that filter in and out push past him but he remains firmly planted, feet shoulder-width apart and satchel slung high on his shoulders. 

Magnus had insisted they meet in front of the restaurant, despite Alec’s futile attempts to pick Magnus up, and now he stands in waiting with nerves that twist and curl with bottled dread at the thought that Magnus might not even show. Alec’s early, he knows he is, but pacing around his apartment would only agitate his neighbors below, and he had already fussed over his outfit in the mirror long enough.

Dark colors are the ensemble choice for today, as they are every day. A black button down with the cuffs folded to his elbows, black jeans that fit just slightly too large of tight, and black boots that are scuffed but less so than the other pairs he owns. It’s not exactly an _ideal_ outfit, especially not when compared to the undoubtedly stylish outfit Magnus will be wearing tonight, but with only a few hours to get ready and Izzy in class, he hadn’t been able to buy anything new.

Where his wardrobe is sorely lacking, he hopes to make up for it with interesting conversation and what he hopes is the perfect date for Magnus. 

Yeah, he’s fucked.

Before he has time to fret yet again, a voice calls out from his side. “Alec!”

“M-Magnus,” he stammers, the low current of unease that spawned in the overworking of his brain now transforming into a burgeoning excitement at the sight of the other man. “You’re here!”

Eyes crinkle where Magnus smiles and tilts his head. “Did you think I would stand you up?”

_Yes_ , he wants to say. “No, of course not,” is his answer.

Dark brown eyes flicker down his body, and Alec tries not to let the spike of attraction affect him visibly as he watches Magnus take him in. “You look amazing.”

And Magnus, _god_ , he must not even realize he’s taken the words right out of Alec’s mouth. Because in front of him stands perfection dressed in a blue silk button down, decorated impeccably with draping chains that sit elegantly in low swoops and bring attention down to the silver belt and black fitted slacks. There’s no glitter tonight, Alec realizes, just the alluring smudge of black and cobalt along Magnus’ eyes that doesn’t bring attention away from the warm honeyed hues that meet Alec’s and catch the words in his throat.

“You look - ah, you look incredible,” he manages through a croak. “You always look good.”

A second of silence, a moment of hesitation where Alec licks his lips in worry, wondering if he’s ruined this already with his inability to be coherent and normal. But then those eyes are flickering down again, and Alec watches intently for the moment where they fall shut fully and soft lips press to his. Only it doesn’t come, because Magnus seems cognizant to the very little space between them that happened unknowingly, and he steps back with a smile and a motion towards the door. “Thank you, Alec. Shall we?”

He almost says yes on instinct, but when Magnus pulls open the door, Alec stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Sorry, um, I actually had something else in mind. Give me just one sec?”

Slowly, stunned, Magnus nods and steps away front the door where Alec rushes in and whispers something to the hostess. It’s only a minute later that he steps back out into the night, carrying two plastic bags with containers in them. He holds them up with a sheepish smile, to which Magnus lifts his brows. 

“You got the food… to go?”

“Yes,” Ales says, drawn out with doubt. “But hold your judgement until we get there.”

Magnus’ raised brows furrow. “Get where?”

“You’ll see,” Alec grins, the excitement back in full force and fueling his actions.

There’s a bubble of laughter that spills from Magnus when Alec walks backwards, facing him and nudging his head for Magnus to follow. So he does, skips a few steps to catch up, and falls into step with Alec into the darkening streets of the city.

Magnus had wanted something casual, laid-back and easy going for their first dinner together, and while burgers from a diner hadn’t exactly been Alec’s first idea, it was one conversation in particular a few days prior that cemented the location for him. 

_I’m just a sucker for small romantic gestures. Something simple and sweet like sharing a milkshake, or a picnic under the stars._

It was a text that came late in the evening when they were on the subject of favorite movies, and Magnus’ guilty pleasure for romantic dramas. While Alec didn’t exactly hold the same sentiments for that genre of movies, he had been diligent in his research and intended to put it to good use.

When they finally stop, it’s with cautious steps on Magnus’ side in the middle of a park where the vivid green grass below lights up with the soft yellow glow of park lights overhead. “Alexander?” Magnus questions, taking in the scenery around them of the tall, luscious trees that part just enough to peek at the beginnings of a winking sky up above.

Alec sets the bags down carefully and reaches into the satchel for the cloth blanket inside, spreading it in a smooth motion he’d seen on TV many times before. It falls upon the grass with a gentle gasp from Magnus, whose eyes are focused heavily on Alec and the succession of his movements. It’s nerve-wracking being watched like this, being fixated on with no indication of approval or dismay. 

What if Magnus thinks this is stupid and Alec has horribly misinterpreted the words of Magnus’ texts? Maybe it’s only ideal in theory, but the practicality of having a picnic under the stars isn’t something Magnus actually wants. What if Magnus is uncomfortable with sitting on the grass with just the flimsy barrier of the cloth beneath them, afraid he’ll stain his pants somehow? What if Magnus walks away now with not a word more and crushes the patient tide of his feelings?

Before Alec can get lost in the hollow darkness of his mind, Magnus sinks to his knees in the middle of the blanket. 

A wide grin meets Alec when he glances down at the other man, an adoring smile that races his heart and has him drifting down instinctively with him, though his heart doesn’t quite follow.

The rest of the night falls into place almost exactly as Alec could have expected, and as much as he wants to sink fully into the experience of their first date, he can’t help the small, niggling feeling that something is going to go horribly wrong. Of course there are a few small hiccups here and there, a wayward onion in his burger that Alec didn’t order, or a small squirt of ketchup that accidentally stains the blanket, but none of it ruins the evening. 

It’s only when Alec finally pulls out the milkshake from the carrier and reveals it to Magnus, that he finally lets go. “Alexander,” Magnus whispers, bright wide eyes peering up at him with wonder. “Is that what I think it is?”

Alec can’t keep the smile off of his own face when he sticks two straws into the thick liquid and leans down to take one between his lips. For a moment, he feels silly. Magnus hasn’t moved, has stayed firm with open eyes that flick back and forth from Alec’s face, to the straw between his lips, and then to the solitary one left for him, until finally, he ducks his head down.

And fuck, this was a good idea in hindsight, it sounded so cute when Alec was planning it. But now, with Magnus so close, with the intensity of his stare right in front of him and the sight of his lips puckered around the straw, _sucking_ …

Damn it.

Alec pulls away first, his lungs burning with the air he didn’t realize he was holding and his tongue tingling with the achingly sweet chocolate from the shake. Magnus doesn’t move right away, content to sip the milkshake with his sultry smile trained on Alec, until finally he leans back and licks his lips. And _god_ , Alec is so far gone for this man already, and they haven’t even finished their first date.

Silence sits between them, comfortable enough that Alec sits the shake back down into the container and Magnus reclines until his back is hitting the cool earth below through the sheet of the blanket. Alec is quick to follow, and mindful to keep an appropriate amount of distance between them.

It’s barely past 8 o’clock, but the hum of the park is quieter than Alec is used to, and though he’s thankful it’s not as chaotic and loud as it normally is at this time on a weekend, it only makes the irregular thump of his pulse louder in his ears. 

Magnus’ voice pierces through in the space between heart beats, a soft murmur into the air. “I’ve never had anyone do something like this for me.”

A travesty, if Alec’s ever heard one. Unfathomable. 

“Seriously?”

There’s a small shake of the head that he catches in the corner of his eye, and he turns to face Magnus. His profile like this, with the cascade of yellow from the lights around them, makes him look a perfect image of serenity. Eyes cast up towards the stars that twinkle so far away, reflections of universes parallel, past, and future, and suddenly those eyes that hold the universe in them are on Alec. He forgets to breathe.

“Thank you, Alexander.”

Warmth pools in his fingertips, a point of contact that spreads, growing until their fingers lace at last, tentative and exploring. Alec has held hands before, has stared longingly into the eyes of another, has felt the high soar of hope budding out of his heart. None of it compares to this moment in time with Magnus. One perfect picture, one memory to hold above all else, and should this be the only one he ever receives, he’ll happily cherish it forever.

Alec basks in the gentle gaze they share, feels the effects of his palpable happiness in the dips of their fingers where the heat remains a constant. He’s still waiting for the other pin to drop, the one that brings it all crashing down in reality, but with the way Magnus strokes a slow thumb along the top of his hand and pulls his lips in a gracious smile, he’s not so sure he believes it will anymore.

Because Magnus is perfect for him, and maybe things between them are just that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it so far!! 
> 
> Comments/kudos are appreciated!!
> 
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> 
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